


persephone

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Nancy Drew On Campus, Past Character Death, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-12-18 20:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11882493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: What if Nancy's choice to attend Wilder wasn't really her choice at all? An alternate take on the On Campus universe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was based on a premise mentioned by nmcompton, who had come up with an entirely different (and far more intriguing) reason for Nancy to attend Wilder—one that honestly made a lot more sense, in my opinion. She graciously agreed to let me run with it.

Carson Drew's mind was still on the golf game he had just won as he put away his clubs and came into the kitchen. Hannah Gruen glanced up at him with a smile. "Good game?"

Carson grinned in reply, and Hannah chuckled. "Something smells delicious," he commented. "What's for lunch?"

"I made a big pan of chicken enchiladas, and the rice is almost finished."

"Mmm. Nancy home?"

Hannah shook her head. "She said she would be back for lunch, but maybe a little late. She and the girls are out shopping for school."

Carson shook his head as he headed toward the stairs to change. Small beads of perspiration had soaked through his shirt; the shade under the trees had been welcome relief, but then sun on the green had been unrelenting. He heard Hannah humming along with the radio as he spotted the day's mail on the small table near the front door. He very nearly picked it up, but decided to wait. He wasn't expecting anything urgent; no manila or overnight-delivery envelopes anchored the stack.

As he selected a clean pale-yellow polo shirt to change into, Carson's gaze swept over his dresser. For the longest time he had emptied the change from his pockets into the Mason jar on the corner of the dresser, at the end of the day. When Nancy had been young, they had fished two quarters from the jar for lost teeth, and for trips to the downtown drugstore she had begged for a handful of change to spend on candy or the cheap plastic toys left on display until sun-bleached and brittle. Nancy had always been more likely to choose a junior spy set than a pale doll with stiff curls and a fixed smile.

Everything else was just as familiar. A pair of cuff links he had discarded after the fundraiser dinner—he needed to put those away. A handful of slightly foxed business cards. And, of course, three photos displayed in elegant silver frames. One was a portrait, fifteen years old. The smile Carson had directed at the camera was pure and earnest, and his hair had been untouched by gray. His hand rested on his wife Catherine's shoulder. Nancy was perched on her lap, wearing a frilly lace-trimmed dress of pale-blue cotton, her eyes bright, grinning happily. One fist was raised. A miniature headband pushed back her wispy soft blonde hair.

Catherine wore a delighted smile in the family portrait, the same smile she wore in her individual portrait. She had been a little younger then. That had been during their first year of marriage, before Nancy had come along. She wore a deep blue-green sweater, and a locket Carson had given her hung around her neck. She had been captured mid-laugh each time, and just the sight of it was still enough to make Carson's stomach tighten into a miserable fist, even now.

The last portrait was one of Nancy, taken her senior year of high school. Her blue eyes were the same as her mother's, and she wore her mother's pearl necklace above the black velvet drape. Her reddish-gold hair fell straight and shining. She was perfect.

Carson knew he was biased, but she was his daughter. She had taken a year off after finishing high school, and would be heading to college in a few months. He wasn't sure how well he would deal with it. He had grown accustomed to seeing her so often...

Before he headed back downstairs, Carson gazed at Catherine's eyes in her portrait and gave her image a small smile. In the awful nightmare his life had become when he lost her, he had spoken to her photograph, shared his grief and his anger, his rage and his loneliness with her. He still spoke to her sometimes, quietly, usually silently.

He was shocked each time he realized how long it had been. His grief never abated. Catherine should still be alive. Catherine should have been around to give their baby girl advice about boys and makeup and protecting herself. Nothing would ever make up for that.

The long-healed wound in his chest ached a little. He blamed it on the exertion of the golf game, even though he felt it again every time he looked at his wife's photograph. At his lowest point, only Nancy had kept him from wishing that he could die with his wife. She had been so, so very hurt by her mother's death, and only Carson had been able to comfort her. They had become each other's world, and her helplessness, their shared grief, had saved him.

Carson took a deep breath and let it out. Catherine was always at the back of his mind; without conscious thought he tallied each of her missed birthdays, each wedding anniversary they would have celebrated, each of Nancy's birthdays without her mother. Carson didn't shove the pain down, or smother it. He let it roll over him, recede back to where it lived, where it waited. He would never recover from this, but over time it had become—manageable. A heavy friend he always carried. By the time he stepped off the last stair and onto the landing, he felt better, but the ache still lingered.

In the kitchen, Hannah was setting the small, less-formal table they used for everyday meals. The delectable aroma of warmed enchilada sauce, green onions, and melted cheese made Carson's stomach rumble. With a little shrug, he scooped up the mail on the way to the table.

Three envelopes were credit card offers that Carson shuffled to the back of the stack. The next envelope—

Carson dropped it onto the floor, from suddenly nerveless fingers. A cold sweat prickled his skin, his forehead, his back. He stared down at it mutely, his gorge rising in his throat.

The envelope was browned slightly at the edges, with age, like a patina. Carson would have known the row of five red cartoon hearts in a chain down the left side anywhere. He knew that the back flap of the envelope would be red. No return address. Of course not.

The address was typed, all-caps, just as he knew it would be—and Carson prayed that might yield a clue. He had doubts that they would find fingerprints or other evidence, but maybe they would.

"Mr. Drew?"

Carson glanced up at Hannah, but he didn't see her. He was trying to think as hard as he could before he couldn't anymore. Even now, it was insanely hard to focus on anything other than his panic.

"You're pale as a sheet. Are you all right?"

He glanced down at it—and very nearly did throw up.

"Nancy. Where is she?"

"Out—out shopping with Bess and George—" Hannah stammered in confusion, repeating what she had already told him.

Carson shook his head. Though his skin crawled with revulsion as he did it, he took a paper towel and picked up the aged envelope. "Any idea where?"

"Downtown. I'm sorry. She just didn't say."

Carson gave her a distracted nod and bolted for his car, his heart in his throat.

\--

A large shopping bag dangling from her left hand, Nancy slipped her wallet back into her purse and stepped out of line as Bess eagerly approached the cashier. At least the pretty blonde had narrowed down her selections from the countless garments that had made their way to her dressing room. As it was, Nancy counted at least five sundresses, a couple of stylish short-sleeved cardigans, and three casual tops. "For whatever," Bess had said carelessly. For her part, George was poking through the clearance workout clothes, though she curled her lip at the yoga pants and loose-fit, gauzy tank tops on offer.

Nancy glanced at her watch, then down at her shopping bag. She smiled. The black floral-print dress she had bought showed off her figure nicely, and she couldn't wait for her boyfriend to see her in it. Even though she planned on being around him as often as she could once the school year started, she was still eager to see him again.

Just the thought of him brought a happy flush to her cheeks. Ned was incredible; he was handsome and athletic, and he had been more than overjoyed when Nancy had been accepted to Emerson for the fall. She loved him so much. Though she would miss Bess and George, who had decided to go to another college, she was so excited about her own choice.

Her attention had been drawn to a jewelry display when she felt an arm slide around her shoulders. Her heart was immediately in her throat, and she began to jerk away, bringing her fist up. The grip tightened. "Shh."

Nancy gasped softly. "Oh. Ned!"

He laughed as she wrapped her arms around him too and gave him a warm hug. "Hey beautiful," he murmured, nuzzling against her. "I didn't mean to scare you. Thanks for not decking me."

She was still trembling a little from the adrenaline rush, and she laughed too. "I was about half a second away from that," she admitted. "How'd you find me?"

"Mom sent me on an errand. I was hoping I'd run into you." He kissed her cheek, then released her. "Hey Bess."

George wandered over, then released a long-suffering sigh. "Okay, you know the deal. Shoe store!"

Bess wrinkled her nose as she hefted her shopping bag. "You don't even look at _cute_ shoes," she groaned.

As the cousins kept chatting, Nancy and Ned slowed their steps to give themselves a little privacy. "Free Friday night?" he asked.

Nancy nodded. "I should be."

"Mmm-hmm," Ned said skeptically. "With any luck I'll get one more weekend with you this summer. But then we'll be at Emerson together..."

Nancy sighed happily. "I can't wait," she told him, gazing up into his dark eyes. "It's going to be incredible."

"You bet it is." He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head, his arm still draped over her shoulders. The contact was making her warm with pleasure.

After the shoe store, they were making their way toward the food court when Nancy's brow furrowed. The mall was just as loud and crowded as it usually was, the hum of conversation and laughter drowning out almost everything else. But she could hear footsteps, brisk footsteps, coming toward her.

Because she was looking around, she saw her father's face as soon as he spotted her. He looked—upset, angry. She saw relief cross his face, and then a flicker of something before he made his expression calm and normal.

Something was terribly wrong. Nancy knew that without asking. Her heart was beating faster.

"Hi honey," her father said. He forced a smile, a smile that gradually relaxed to something more genuine, but a cold prickle of fear was still walking up and down her spine.

"Dad," she replied, her gaze riveted to his face.

"Something's come up. You need—to come with me. Hi, Ned."

"Can I help, sir? Whatever it is?"

Carson shook his head immediately. He couldn't even seem to look at Ned. "I know this is—please, Nancy."

Absolutely nothing about his manner or his words was reassuring her. "I'll see you later," she told Ned, shooting him an apologetic smile. "Can you tell Bess and George?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Call me, okay?"

As soon as she and her father were striding briskly toward the exit, Nancy took a deep breath and steeled herself. She didn't know what it was, only that it was serious. "What's wrong?"

Carson gave his head a half-shake, briskly. "Did you drive here?"

"No. Bess picked me up."

"Mmm."

Nancy had never seen her father like this. He seemed to not be able to make up his mind; he was looking away from her, like he couldn't meet her eyes, like he had found out about something terrible she had done and he was disappointed in her. But that wasn't it. She had seen him disappointed in her. His agitation—it was more than alarming.

Once they were in his car, Nancy buckled up and pressed her palm against the seat as her father peeled out of the parking spot. She couldn't take her eyes off him, and every few seconds she stopped herself from asking again what was going on. Apparently he didn't want to tell her, but this—

He was terrified. Panicked.

Nancy's heart rose to her throat, and she blinked back sudden tears.

He muttered to himself a few times, under his breath, agitated. Then he headed toward Chicago, and Nancy settled back, but she was unable to relax. It was hard to breathe. The car was silent, save road noise and her heartbeat.

Once they had reached the city, she was somehow even more shocked. He navigated toward the rougher part of town, and brought the Lincoln to a stop in front of a garage. Two guys scowled at the car from the shadows of the overhang, and their expressions didn't change when Carson stepped out of the car. He tossed the keys to one of them. Nancy watched, wide-eyed. Somehow, during the day, she had crossed over into some kind of parallel universe.

"No one comes inside. I mean it."

The man holding Carson's keys gave him a small nod. His jaw was still set, his gaze unflinching, ice-cold. He unlocked the door to the garage for them, and Carson gestured for Nancy to come inside with him.

"Paulie Masucci's place."

Nancy nodded once in understanding. Her father had defended Masucci against a murder charge, and had won a deal for him. Masucci swore that he hadn't been involved in the murder. Nancy hadn't been so sure, but it hadn't been up to her to decide.

Carson reached for Nancy's hand, then seemed to think better of it, but didn't let go when Nancy reached for him in return. He guided her into the building; it appeared to be some kind of chop shop. The whir and clatter of machinery and the din of shouts and gruff laughter echoed around the industrial space. She only caught a few glimpses before they were in an interior room. Battered, dusty blinds blocked the single wide window. A long metal table and four chairs took up the limited floor space. The single bare bulb overhead cast much of the room into deep shadow.

Carson let out a long trembling breath, then pulled out a chair, gesturing for Nancy to take a seat. She wanted to refuse; she wanted to demand answers first, but for the first time, she was actually afraid of what he might say. She swallowed and slowly lowered herself into the unpadded seat.

Then her father looked at her from his own seat, and his eyes were shining.

Nancy gasped. "Dad, you have to tell me what's wrong," she said, her tone more harsh than she had intended. Her fist was clenched.

He looked down at the table, and she saw his jaw flexing. His fist was clenched too. Then he dragged his gaze back to her face, studying her.

"What do you know about—what happened to your mother?"

Nancy's heart sank straight to the floor. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Her father smiled, but there was absolutely no humor in it. "You looked it up," he guessed softly.

"Yes," she admitted, after waiting a minute to see if he would say anything else.

"And what did you find out?"

She had a feeling that he had memorized the newspaper stories a long time ago, or maybe he hadn't been able to bring himself to read them. She wasn't sure. "You had been shot a few day earlier and were still in the hospital," she said slowly, watching his face. She had it memorized; she didn't need to look away, to think about it. "Mom was abducted from the house. She was found two days later, in a ditch near the park. They never caught the person who did it."

"That's the beginning," he replied, quietly, after a pause. "The end, but... the beginning, too.

"Your mother was stalked before she was murdered."

Nancy's eyebrows went up. "I... ?"

"It wasn't released," he answered her unspoken question, "because the belief was that providing publicity to the nutjob would just add fuel to the fire, as it were. No one thought—that she would—that it would end the way it did.

"From the timing, it looks like the guy who killed her might have targeted her after her photo appeared in the newspaper. She and I were at a fundraiser event, and she looked beautiful. She was worried about you the whole night. It was one of our first formal dates after you were born."

Nancy's throat was aching. She was pretty sure she had seen the photo he meant. It was hard to reconcile that image, the smiling woman in the photo, to something that might provoke a man to stalk and kill her.

"We dismissed the first letter, threw it away. Of course. It came in some juvenile-looking stationery. Envelope with a red flap, red cartoon hearts down the edge. It looked like a secret-admirer thing.

"But they kept coming. Kate already didn't go out much, but after that, after the third letter, she didn't want to leave the house. Of course, she did; she had to. The police force provided us with security, and at least two men, usually three, were staying around the house, keeping an eye on her while she was running errands.

"It didn't matter, though. When the next note came, a picture of her was enclosed, one that had been taken while she was at the grocery store. Probably with a telephoto lens. I hope to God it was.

"What seemed to drive him crazy, provoke another letter, another—incident, was when she and I were in public together. He couldn't stand it. While she and I were on a date—God. A man walked up to me, tried to shoot me right in the heart. He missed, but I was still seriously wounded. And that's exactly what the point was. To get me out of the way.

"She was supposed to be sleeping. She was supposed to be safe." Carson's voice began shaking, and he looked away for a moment. "The police asked me over and over about disgruntled former clients, enemies, all of it. It didn't lead us anywhere useful. And I have never felt so powerless as I did, overhearing someone say that she had vanished while I was stuck in that hospital bed."

A tear had streaked down Nancy's cheek, and another slid down as her father took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Then he looked up at her, and for a few moments they were both lost in their grief. They held hands tightly until she sniffled and sighed, releasing her grip on him as she wiped her face.

"There's a reason you wanted to talk about this today."

He made a soft hoarse sound that sent a prickle of horror down Nancy's spine. "Yeah. I..." He ran a palm over his face, clearly trying to compose himself. "One of those damn envelopes came in the mail today. Addressed to you."

Nancy's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Suddenly her father's deep agitation made sense. He was upset on her behalf, not _at_ her. He was worried about her.

"Dad—"

_I'll be fine._ She had said those words to him hundreds of times. They died on her lips.

He reached for her hand and held it tight. "We never released the information about the envelopes; it's not a copycat. It's—it's a little yellow with age. This is the _same person_. And I'm going to find this guy, and make sure he can't hurt you. I swear to you."

Nancy sniffled, searching his eyes. She hated losing control like this, but it was her mother they were talking about. Her mother. None of her cases had ever been so personal, other than the ones involving her father, and this...

"If I—Nan, this was over months last time. If I can't find him before it's time for you to start school, you can't go to Emerson."

Nancy immediately shook her head. "I—I have a good relationship with the security, and Ned will be there—"

Her father's jaw was set. "Listen to me," he said, his voice quiet but firm, and Nancy sniffled and stopped talking. "When your mother and I were in public together, it provoked him. He felt possessive toward Kate. If he—" Her father had to stop talking for a moment so he could calm down, and when he spoke again, his voice was even quieter. "You would be around Ned all the time. And if he does what he did before, he might kill Ned. If you're still here, he might kill both Ned and me, or hurt us. And that would leave you completely defenseless. You need to get away from me and away from Ned. Somewhere that you can be protected."

Nancy shook her head and took a gasping breath, but she didn't know how to persuade her father that he was wrong.

"Nancy, _nothing_ is as important as your life. I hope that we'll be able to find this guy soon. But if we don't—this isn't a question. I knew a woman who serves on the board of trustees at Wilder; we met in law school. She can get you a place there."

Nancy sniffled again, reaching for her purse to find a tissue. "And Bess and George? I guess you're afraid for them too, and—"

Carson shook his head. "Bess's mother was actually watching you, babysitting you, when Kate—when it happened. This guy doesn't care about female friends. Or, at least, he didn't."

"How do you know it's a guy, that it's the same guy? Other than an old envelope. Was the message identical?"

Something in his expression softened a little. This was familiar, their discussing the ins and outs of a case. "I didn't open the envelope," he said. "I'll take it to the police station this afternoon for them to process as evidence, in case we're lucky and they can find a print, DNA, something. A part of me doesn't want to know what it says, either."

Then he sobered again. "As to your other question. Based on... what had happened to Kate, while she was missing... we know that a man was at least involved."

Nancy covered her mouth. She felt sick.

"I wouldn't have survived if I hadn't had you," he said, searching her eyes. "I won't risk your safety. I can't. I know it will be hard to go to Wilder, and if you come up with an alternative, then I'd be happy to hear it. But you and Ned, even today... Kate and I didn't go out that much. You and Ned would be out together all the time. I can't imagine that the drive would stop him from stalking you."

"So we can't be seen in public together anymore. I..."

He crossed his arms. "Answer me honestly. If you tell Ned about this, could he keep his distance? Knowing that his desire to protect you might be the very thing that ends up killing you? Because I can tell you with all my heart that it almost killed me to know that."

"You can't blame yourself for something a psychopath did."

He gave her a weak smile. "My head knows that," he replied. "My heart... I don't think it will ever be convinced.

"I never wanted this day to come. I hoped that it was over. But I'll fight until my last breath. With any luck we'll find him tomorrow and you and Ned can go to Emerson with no problem."

Nancy swallowed. "What are you not saying?" she whispered.

"That you can't tell him about this. To keep both of you safe. I know how I was with Kate, and that boy would take a bullet for you. Just like I did. I couldn't have done anything else. Once I realized how much danger she was in, I couldn't stop—being around her. And I can't say that staying away from her would have made any difference at all. The only reason I can even contemplate sending you so far away from me is that if it keeps you safe, if it means you'll live..."

Nancy sniffled and wiped another tear away, searching her father's face. "We'll find this guy," she said firmly. "We will. I can't... I have to go to Emerson. I just have to."

He touched her hand. "I want you to go too," he said. "I want you to be happy, honey. But I need you to be safe."

Before they left, her father pulled her into a hug and they held each other for a long time. The pity she felt at seeing him so wounded, so vulnerable, was almost physically painful. She would do anything for him, just as he would do anything for her.

Just as she would do anything to keep Ned safe.

And the best way to keep the man she loved safe... might involve breaking her own heart.


	2. Chapter 2

"Avery Fallon."

The tall, slender blonde extended her hand. Her green eyes were sharp with intelligence, bracketed by faint crow's feet. She wasn't stunningly beautiful, but the brief grin she directed at Nancy did make her look pretty.

"Nancy Drew." Nancy's voice wasn't so confident or assured as Avery's. A week of lingering fear had left her exhausted and irritable. If it had been only her—

But it wasn't. Every minute, she was painfully aware of her father's renewed grief and his anxiety about her safety. Every minute, Nancy had to fight her need to keep her father safe. But the police hadn't been able to turn up anything about the envelope: no fingerprints, no trace of saliva, nothing. Worse than that, her father was nearly frantic in his insistence that Nancy do nothing to provoke the stalker.

She felt paralyzed, and so incredibly angry. This wasn't her father's fault. He hadn't invited the man who had killed his wife back into his life, assuming the person who had sent the threatening letter wasn't a sick copycat. But Carson Drew had forbidden Nancy to do what she loved, what she needed to do, and with every day that passed, the pressure inside her somehow increased. Her life was on hold.

And her relationship with Ned was on hold, thanks to her father's caution.

If Nancy hadn't been able to still see Bess and George, she would have completely lost her mind. As it was, she was miserable.

Avery gave Nancy a brisk nod, tucking a strand of her bobbed silver-blonde hair behind her ear. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Nancy. I just wish it could have been under better circumstances."

Nancy released a gusty, almost sarcastic chuckle. "You have no idea," she muttered. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Avery shook her head, gesturing at a sweating glass of lemonade. Nancy hadn't noticed it. She shook her head with a half-smile. Maybe it was best that she wasn't out there looking for the psychopath who had hurt her mother. She seemed to be losing her touch, if she'd missed something _that_ obvious. "Have a seat," Avery said. "You look exhausted."

_I am exhausted._ Nancy gave the other woman a thin-lipped smile instead of giving voice to the thought. She was always incredibly frustrated when she reached a standstill on a case; she had been heartbroken after Ned had broken up with her at Emerson on a cold winter night. Nothing kept her down for long. She went over the evidence and discovered new clues. She found her way past the pain of losing Ned by falling in love with him again. But there was nothing she could do now, and all her pent-up energy just ended up eating away at her. Nancy took a seat at one end of the couch, momentarily amused that a stranger would offer her a seat in her own home.

"Are you doing okay?"

Nancy's hand clenched into a fist, and then she very deliberately relaxed it, taking a calming breath. "No," she replied. "And you'll pardon my being impolite, but what are you doing here?"

"I'm a federal agent," she said. "But I'm doing this as a personal favor for Marilyn Kilpatrick. She wanted to do whatever she could to help out, so I'm here for security. My cover will be as an old flame of your father's, here to visit for a while." Her eyebrow flicked up when Nancy couldn't keep the frown off her face. "I know it might be a bit distasteful, but it was the easiest way to explain my presence in the house."

Nancy sprang up and began to pace. Her stomach was roiling. Just when she had thought her life had been turned entirely upside down... "So are you involved in the police investigation?"

Avery shook her head. "Your father's caution over this—"

"Paranoia," Nancy suggested, crossing her arms. The room felt just a little stuffy, but whenever she stepped foot outside, her skin began to crawl. Nothing hurt as much as the thought that her father would be completely heartbroken if something happened to her. Whoever was stalking her couldn't be everywhere at once, couldn't possibly be watching her every minute of the day, but... "So you can't tell me anything."

"I didn't say that." Avery's voice was firm, but not without sympathy. "I have resources. But if the guy who's apparently after you has any connections to the local force, the investigation would be compromised."

Nancy took a deep breath, quickening her steps as she continued to pace around the coffee table and sofa, Avery's gaze following her. The sudden sting of tears swelled the lining of her nose, left a lump in her throat. "I'll never be able to leave the house again," she said, her voice hoarse. She brought a hand up and swiped angrily at her face as a tear streaked down her cheek. "He will _never_ let me do anything until this guy is caught."

Avery was silent, and Nancy didn't look at her until she had brought herself under something close to control. Not that she felt like she had any restraint anymore. Her anger and frustration made her feel guilty, and that made her feel angry all over again, and the fear behind it all was insurmountable.

Nancy blew her nose and collapsed onto the couch, fists clenched. "I'm sorry I'm being a brat," she muttered, impatiently sweeping damp hair away from her flushed cheek. "I feel like I'm about to come out of my own skin."

Avery released a quiet sound somewhere close to a sigh. "I'm not going to lie and say I know how you feel," she said. "I can imagine, but I also can't. Call Senator Kilpatrick; she'll tell you about me. Then... as much as I know you don't want to hear this, leave this to me and my team. We'll find this guy, and put him away for the rest of his miserable life."

Nancy gave her a tight smile.

"And... I think you feel just about as pleased with that, as I would in your place." Avery stroked her palm over her thigh a few times in a brisk, comforting gesture, then reached for her lemonade. "Apparently you were going to be heading to college in a few months, and your father..."

"Decided that I wasn't." Nancy couldn't hide the bitterness in her voice. "At least, not where I wanted. Part of second-guessing every step I take for the entire rest of my life, starting with—"

Starting with Ned. Starting with what might be the most important relationship of her life.

Ned could tell something was wrong. He had known her for so long, and sometimes he almost seemed able to read her thoughts. As complicated as it would have made things, she kind of wished he could. Because if the stalker wasn't caught soon—and as far as Nancy knew, zero progress had been made on the case...

She couldn't tell him. Ned wouldn't be able to stay away from her. Any minute he could spare, he would be with her.

And she couldn't _not_ tell him, either. She had already hurt him by avoiding him since that damn letter had arrived in the mail, her father's warning ringing in her ears. Surely they could find some way to get through this. Surely if she explained the circumstances to Ned, he could...

But she knew she was fooling herself. If their situations had been reversed, she would have been stuck to Ned's side, and nothing would have kept her away. If Ned being around her provoked the stalker, then it was possible he might be angry enough to make some mistake, a slip that would enable the authorities to catch him.

But no matter what, no matter how many times she considered it, she ran up against an unforgiving brick wall. She _would not_ put Ned's life in danger. Her father had nearly died under those circumstances. She wouldn't give in to her frustration for a rash gesture, and have Ned pay the price for it.

She was, quite literally, going to lose her mind.

"Starting with what?"

Avery's calm voice brought Nancy back. When she was trying to sleep, straining to analyze every creak and thump in the house, she went over it repeatedly, trying to find a way to keep both their hearts intact. She still hadn't found one.

"I'm going to Emerson," Nancy said, and something in her heart felt angry and hard. "Where my boyfriend goes. Dad's decided that it would be too dangerous, if the stalker is still out there. That he might go after Ned, then me."

Avery's green-eyed gaze stayed steady on Nancy's face.

"So instead, Dad wants me to go to Wilder. My two best female friends are going there. He knows some people and he thinks he can keep me safer there. Maybe if I'm not around Ned, the stalker won't escalate."

"That makes it sound like you're to blame for whatever the stalker does."

Nancy vaulted to her feet and began to pace again, furious. " _Exactly._ And I can't win. If he does nothing, I get to stay home forever. If he goes after me, it's my fault. If he hurts—the guy I love, it's my fault." She sniffled.

"It's not. You know that."

"I just miss him so much." Tension made Nancy's voice become high and thin. "He's so excited about us going to his university. It's all he can talk about. If I tell him..."

Avery gave her a small, sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. I am."

Nancy shook her head, setting her lips in a tight line. Her throat was aching again. Avery couldn't help her, unless she somehow managed to change Nancy's father's mind. Nancy didn't see that happening.

Her anger and frustration didn't abate—until her father came home for dinner, and she saw his exhaustion, his anxiety. His love for her was closing around her like a prison, but he had impressed on her the terrible risk in leaving it. Instead of confronting him, she went along with his attempt to talk about anything other than what was at the forefront of all their minds. She paid close attention once Avery and her father started talking, though. Avery really was good at this role, and she honestly seemed to click with Carson.

Maybe they would start dating, for real, once Nancy was at Emerson with Ned. Her father had commented several times that he would miss her while she was gone, and though Nancy had found herself unreasonably jealous and critical of the women her father dated, she was starting to warm a little to the idea. She hadn't _immediately_ wanted to punch Avery in the face when she had talked about posing as her father's old flame, for starters.

When she checked her phone after dinner, she found a message from Ned, just as she had expected. Tears stung in her throat as she read it.

_I love you, sweetheart, and I miss you. Please call me._

She had told Ned that she was working hard with her father on a complicated case. All the discovery and the investigations they were doing took up all her time. In a way, it wasn't a lie... but it was. Nancy hated lying to Ned. That made what she might have to do even worse.

_I miss you too, Ned. I love you so much. I'll call you when I can._

Stifling a sob, she rested her cheek on the pillow, gazing through tear-blurred eyes at the photo of Ned on her bedside table.

\--

By that Thursday, Nancy's father had made his decision. Attending Emerson would be too risky. He contacted Wilder and pulled the necessary strings, and when he told Nancy his decision, she hadn't been able to hold back her tears. He pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back, making soft comforting noises.

"You could stay here," he murmured. "I'd rather you _did_ stay here, actually."

She considered it. Her depression and frustration almost made her agree. For as long as her mother had stayed home...

_For the rest of her life?_

Quite literally, for the rest of her life, however brief it might be.

She could do nothing here. She couldn't look for clues or work on the investigation. Her father had basically forbid it.

But it was _Wilder._ It wasn't Emerson. Bess and George would be thrilled; Ned would be hurt and upset. And if she told Bess and George what she was going through, and one was caught in the crossfire... oh God, Nancy loved them so much. She loved her three best friends, and she loved her father.

Nancy was so upset that she felt literally, physically sick. Keeping the secret from her friends, keeping what she was going through from her father—it was all too much.

The next morning at breakfast, when her father had departed for the office and Hannah was tidying the kitchen, Avery peered at Nancy over her coffee cup. Nancy hadn't slept well. When she had glanced at her reflection while brushing her teeth, her exhaustion had been obvious. Even basic grooming felt like a struggle. Even Hannah's tender, perfect blueberry muffins tasted like sand in her mouth.

"You need a break," Avery pronounced. "Is there anywhere you can go, maybe for the weekend? Just to get away, relax, not think about any of this?"

"Behind a phalanx of security guards?" She couldn't seem to hide her bitterness from Avery, maybe because the agent was the one person she had let herself open up to.

"No. A couple."

Avery finished her coffee and gazed through the window, and Nancy's eyes narrowed. She had been spending time around the agent for most of the past week. She was allowed to leave the house with Avery, and the agent had taken her to the shooting range a few times. Nancy didn't like carrying a gun, but if she went away to school and found herself in a dangerous situation...

But being around Avery so much had made her sensitive to the other woman's moods.

"What's wrong?" she asked, point blank. She glanced back at the kitchen, but Hannah was in the pantry, taking stock for the dinner she was planning.

Avery drummed her fingertips on the table a few times. She compressed her lips into a tight line before looking into Nancy's eyes again. "Another letter came in," she admitted quietly.

Nancy sat bolt upright. When it had been only one unwelcome letter, when nothing else had happened, she had worked on convincing herself that her father was somehow overreacting, that it had been a prank, an easy way to get under Carson's skin. Clearly, it had succeeded. Nancy had vanished from public sight almost immediately. They had done exactly what the sender of the letter had wanted, and God knew _that_ got under Nancy's skin. Apparently that wasn't enough, though.

"What did it say?" Nancy asked, her voice low and firm. She searched Avery's face, seeing all the small signs of the older woman's anxiety. Her father had reacted so violently when Nancy asked about the first letter that she hadn't pressed the issue, but another letter might mean a possible clue.

Avery sighed. "It was—he's just trying to get a rise out of your father. I think that's obvious now, even to him. And I don't blame Carson for being upset—"

"What did it say." Nancy's lips were trembling very faintly, and her fist was clenched on the table in front of her.

Avery sighed. "That he's glad you've saved yourself for him," she said. Her tone was defeated. "That he's waited a long time for this."

Nancy shuddered, and the food already in her stomach solidified into a hard lump. She gazed at the table in front of her without seeing it. The man who had kidnapped, raped, murdered her mother...

Her choked, heartbroken cry startled even Nancy, but just the sound of it was enough to break through her temporary paralysis. She buried her face in her hands, trembling with rage and grief and... fear. When she felt a hand touch her shoulder, she jumped, gasping, to see Avery there.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't..." She didn't know how to give voice to what she was feeling; she _couldn't_. There were no words for this. Her heart was pounding with adrenaline.

Still not a single clue yet, at least none that she knew of.

_Saving yourself for me._

Nancy scrambled away from the table, blinking another pair of huge tears down her cheeks as she headed for the closest bathroom. She barely made it in time, and after she had emptied her stomach, she gasped for breath between her sobs.

This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. Soon she would wake up, and she would be at Emerson, and this would fade and be forgotten.

Nancy wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard a faint tapping at the door. She jerked her head up, breathing noisily through her mouth.

"Nancy? Are you all right?"

She opened her mouth to speak, to give the expected lie, but found it impossible to force anything through her tear-swelled throat. She cleared it and tried again. "Just a minute," she croaked out, and slowly put herself back together again. When she scrutinized her face in the mirror, her skin was still blotchy from crying, her eyes puffy, but at least she looked better than she had. She still looked like a wreck.

She _was_ a wreck. She gave her reflection a brief shake of the head, then opened the door.

"He couldn't know that," Nancy said, without preamble. "Not—what he said."

Avery shook her head. "We still have access to the letters he sent—before. This guy didn't have a great grip on reality _then_. That's part of why they haven't been shown to you. No use putting that stuff in your head." She gave Nancy a small, apologetic smile. "And I shouldn't have told you what I did."

Nancy shook her head wearily, dragging herself the few feet to the couch. "What does it matter?" she muttered. "What does any of this matter."

After a few minutes of silence, punctuated only by the sounds of Hannah humming along to an almost imperceptible song on the radio, Nancy glanced up at Avery, who was looking at her. Her brow was creased, and her eyes looked troubled.

"Do you want to talk to someone?"

Nancy snorted, then brushed her hair away from her face. "I can't talk to anyone I want to," she replied. "And it won't fix anything."

Avery tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I... we're gonna catch this guy," she said. "You'll have your life back. You have my word."

Nancy gave her a wan smile. "I appreciate the thought," she murmured. "But it's already been fifteen years. You'll excuse me if I can't feel that optimistic."

\--

On Saturday night, Nancy packed a bag, kissed her father goodbye, and drove to Bess Marvin's house. She had taken Avery's suggestion. She needed to be around some people who cared about her. Part of the bargain included two security guards, who would be patrolling outside the Marvin home the entire time Nancy was there. Avery had told her to be particularly careful around the shift change, which would likely be at one o'clock. If the stalker was hoping to make a move, that would present a great opportunity.

The gun and ammunition in her bag had been her father's idea, too. It was unloaded, but the weight of it, physical and psychological, was undeniable.

The party was already underway. Bess's mother was throwing a family party for her sister, and the house was crammed with guests, including George and the Fayne family.

Nancy put in an appearance, hugging her two best friends, wishing Bess's aunt a happy birthday. Her heart was beating hard the whole time, and if something happened...

Nothing would happen, not with two security guards patrolling all night, not with all the people around. Nancy had told Bess and George that she was working a dangerous case with her father, that if they spotted anyone suspicious they should call the police, and while they were curious, they had agreed.

After an hour, Nancy shouldered her backpack and bid her two best friends a good night. She hadn't told them about Wilder. She wanted to believe that she would be able to go to Emerson, somehow, and she didn't want Bess and George to be disappointed when that happened.

The sun was sinking toward the horizon when Nancy finally reached her destination. Two taxi rides and a train ride had taken her to the lake, and she even had the last taxi driver drop her off at the main lodge instead of taking her directly to the house she wanted.

If nothing changed... tonight...

Nancy's lower lip trembled, but she told herself to focus. She wasn't going to squander tonight.

The window facing the water was aglow, but the house looked otherwise deserted. Nancy was walking along the water, her hair tucked under a ballcap, her fists in the pockets of a plain navy windbreaker. As soon as she saw that pale golden glow, so subtle that it almost looked like an artifact of the reflected sunset, she couldn't drag her gaze away. It felt like the only sign of hope she had seen in weeks.

Still, she continued past the house, scanning everything, making sure nothing was out of place. No cars were parked outside the house, and though a few families were visiting the lake that weekend, she didn't see anything unusual or out of place.

She had to admit to herself, though, that she was desperate for this. If she had spotted anything strange, she would have seriously considered pulling the gun. Or destroyed whoever stood between her and her plans for tonight, using her bare hands.

Her heart was beating so hard that her fingertips were trembling when she finished one last pass and decided that it looked safe. She had to force herself to walk instead of running straight toward the house.

Nancy didn't even knock on the door. She raised her fist, but it opened before she made contact, and Ned stood there. His dark hair was rumpled, his dark eyes full of the same love and need she was feeling.

She dropped her bag and they crashed together, holding each other so tight she could barely breathe, and then she was sobbing against his neck.

"Nan, baby..."

She heard him close the door, and then he was carrying her over to the couch, lowering himself onto it, still holding her. She clung to him, horrified that she had broken down so thoroughly in front of him, but there was nothing she could do about it now. And he just stroked her back and made soft, comforting noises, none of the hollow promises that he would fix this, that he would make it better.

Just being here... oh God, she felt so selfish, so horrible, but she needed the man she loved. This might be the last night they could spend together for a long time.

"Hey," he whispered, giving her another hug. She tried hard to get herself under control, but after pushing all of it down for so, so long, it was like the valve had blown, and the unbearable pressure was loosed.

"I missed you too."

She chuckled despite herself, reaching up to wipe her streaming eyes, and moved back to look into his face. "I missed you so much," she whispered. "I love you. I love you, baby."

His smile broke her heart. "Please tell me you'll be done with this case soon," he begged her. "Summer's almost over, and when we get to Emerson and classes start—"

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and Ned cut himself off, gazing at her in concern. She shook her head, standing up and crossing to the kitchen to blow her nose and bathe her face in cold water. She wasn't going to waste tonight crying.

As she blotted her cheeks with a paper towel, she wished that she had made her trail obvious, that she had driven her Mustang straight here, that she had dared her stalker to come out of the shadows and attack her directly. It might work, if they had a suitable decoy in place. But she absolutely would not risk Ned's safety that way.

Her father would lose his mind if he knew it, but Nancy was experiencing longer and longer stretches of despair and apathy. Sometimes, like a deer mesmerized by the barreling death behind the headlights, she thought that maybe she was beginning to understand what her mother might have figured out. If she sacrificed herself, the people she loved would no longer be in danger. If the man who had killed her mother vowed to destroy everything standing between them, she would never forgive herself.

_It's not your fault._ Maybe Avery was right, but it didn't help.

Ned came up behind her and slid his arms around her, and Nancy hung her head. "I'm sorry," Ned murmured. "I didn't mean to upset you. Please forgive me. I've wanted to see you so much..."

Nancy nodded and turned in his arms. "I've been under so much stress," she whispered. "The longer we're apart, the more I need you, and I need you so much."

He kissed her temple, and she trembled at the feel of his breath against her skin. "We'll be together again soon," he whispered, and she swallowed the sob that rose in her throat. "Here, let's sit down. Are you hungry?"

Nancy couldn't remember the last time she had been able to force down more than a few bites of food. Everyone at her house understood, although Hannah did everything she could to encourage Nancy to eat. Ned only saw her upset and hurting, and wanted to comfort her.

For him, she ate one of the cheeseburgers he had picked up, and a cup of mixed fruit. Once the sun was down, she and Ned closed the blinds—she hated the idea of anyone using the cover of darkness to spy on them—and he turned on a movie. Ned hadn't questioned her elaborate plans for the night, lying about her whereabouts and using a cab to get to Fox Lake; he just assumed that she didn't want her father to know they were spending time alone together.

And she didn't, because if her father knew what she was doing, he would be knocking at the door five minutes later, terrified and furious.

They shared a bag of microwave popcorn, cuddled up together, her back against his chest. She tried to lock it into her memory, to memorize it, but she felt both bottomless relief and abject despair. She let her mind drift, and slowly she relaxed. From the second of her arrival, she had been waiting for some small sound, the scrape of a shoe sole, the creak of a weight-stressed board, someone sneaking up on them. Some hint that it would end tonight. But there had been nothing, and she had been running on adrenaline so long that just the feel of Ned's heart beating against her back was relaxing her.

This couldn't be the last time—it _wouldn't._ The police and her father would find the man doing this... eventually. And if it took too long, if Ned forgot her and started dating someone else... maybe that would be the best, for him...

Nancy began to cry silently, and Ned tensed when he felt her tears soak into his sleeve. "Shh," Ned whispered. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "I love you," she whispered, as though if she kept saying it, if she was able to tell him enough times, it would be enough to keep his heart... even after she had to break it.

Ned wrapped his arms around her, and she turned onto her other side, burying her face against his chest, wishing she could just melt into him. She breathed him in and he rubbed her back. "I love you too," he whispered. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

_Help me kill the asshole who killed my mother, who's stalking me. Help me get my life back._

"Hold me," she whispered. "I need you... I need you to know that I love you, no matter what. No matter what happens. You're the only guy I've ever loved."

He kissed the crown of her head. "What's going on?"

She closed her eyes. She couldn't tell him. She absolutely couldn't tell him. But the impulse to do so was strong.

_He would take a bullet for you. And you would take a bullet to make sure that never happens._

Her fist closed as she gripped the back of his shirt, and she forced a weak smile before opening her eyes. "The case Dad's investigating is horrible," she said. "It's just made me realize how much I love you. If he hadn't made me swear to absolute secrecy, I'd tell you all about it."

Ned searched her eyes, smoothing her hair back from her wet cheek. "I know you love him, but if it's upsetting you this much, I wish he'd let you off the hook," he told her. "He has plenty of people who could help him out with this. But that's not who you are, is it," he murmured, giving her his own sad smile.

She shook her head, gazing into his eyes. "I wish this had never happened," she admitted. "With all my heart."

He moved so his face was even with hers, and kissed her gently. "And soon we'll be able to do this a lot more often," he told her. "Study dates at the Omega house, movies at the student union, all of it. It's the start of the rest of our lives together."

He took a breath, and she saw the sudden vulnerability in his eyes. As in tune with each other as she and Ned were, she knew she would break down if he figured out what was going on, what was upsetting her so much. But it meant she knew what he was thinking about. Emerson was just the beginning of this new phase in their relationship, and she knew how he imagined it going. All the more reason why her going to Wilder instead would hurt them.

"You can make your own choices, when we're there. I mean, I know you already do that, but if you're four hours away, your dad can't expect you to keep working on this for him. We can have fun together. You'll find new cases. You'll see."

She cupped his cheek. "Yeah," she lied. "That sounds perfect."

The house's three bedrooms were all upstairs. When they stayed here, Ned had one to himself, and generally Bess and George shared one, leaving Nancy with another. Instead of turning on the overhead light, just in case anyone was watching, Nancy turned on the much-dimmer bedside lamp and prepped for bed. Ned had started yawning at the end of the movie, and Nancy had gone along with it. Just as she hadn't been eating well, she hadn't been sleeping well either, and at least being close to Ned might make it easier.

Three times, she almost changed her mind. Ned might balk; he might turn her down... or any number of things. She wouldn't blame him. She wouldn't. Because she couldn't tell him what this truly meant to her.

Once she heard Ned finish brushing his teeth, she waited until he returned to his room, then walked very quietly to his door. She tapped on it and it swung open a few inches. Ned turned to her; he had just plugged in his cell phone, and he wore an undershirt and boxers.

"Can you come here?" she whispered.

Ned nodded, an unspoken question in his eyes, and followed her as she led the way back to her room. She had left the bedside lamp on, and he followed her in as she sat down at the foot of the bed.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded and smiled. All the doubt she had felt, all the uncertainty, melted away, though it left her heart beating hard. She was at peace with whatever happened tonight. "Can you stay in here with me?"

Ned's eyes widened briefly. "If you're sure... yeah. I..."

She could tell when he saw what she had left on the bedside table, in the halo of the lamp's light. A box of condoms, and a small bottle of lube. No matter how she had tried to tell herself that what she was doing was fine, that she was being responsible, she had still been blushing during the entire purchase.

He breathed her name, and she gazed into his eyes, giving him a small, nervous smile. _It's okay, it's okay, it's okay,_ she kept telling herself. _If he says no, it's okay._

But when Avery had told her about that letter, that mocking assertion that her innocence belonged to her stalker, something inside her had broken, hardened. She would be _damned_ if it happened that way. She had no intention of ever being raped, of letting him assault her, but no woman ever did. And if it came down to it, she needed this to be her choice.

And it was her choice. A part of her had known that once she and Ned were at Emerson together, spending a lot of time alone together, maybe they wouldn't take that step, but they would likely come much closer. She had felt both a little scared and very excited about it. Once the time was right...

Well, she had decided. If he was willing, then tonight was the right time. Maybe she didn't have a silky, frilly piece of lingerie—she wore an oversized t-shirt and a pair of loose cotton shorts over plain cotton underwear for her pajamas—but they would have time for that later, she swore to herself. Once all this was over.

Ned cleared his throat. "Let me—I'll be right back. _Don't move._ "

Despite the slight trembling in her belly, she smiled, even chuckled softly. Ned was already down to his own underwear, and once he hastily made a beeline to his room, she took off her pajama top and shorts, leaving them on the armchair beside the bed.

Ned returned almost at a run, and pulled to an abrupt stop in her doorway, then shook his head. "You moved."

She smiled. "Sorry. You were at an advantage."

Ned stepped into her room, and she could tell that something was in his hand. "Babe, if I'd known... I would have done more. Candles, soft music, roses, all of it. I would have made it perfect for you." Then he smiled, but it was self-deprecating. "As perfect as I could."

"It will be," she told him, sitting back down. "Because it's us. It's all right—I wasn't even sure if I'd have the nerve, until a few minutes ago."

He took a few cautious steps forward. "I know what you mean."

His fingers were still wrapped in a death grip around whatever he held. "What's that?" she asked softly.

"Oh!" His nervousness was charming her, and he closed the distance between them without another thought, sitting down beside her on the bed. "I—well, I _did_ bring one thing. Not what you brought..." He shook his head in wonder. "I love you so much, baby."

She smiled. She had feared this, but in comparison to the last few weeks, her fear had faded to an almost pleased anxiety. Ned wouldn't hurt her. He'd sooner hurt himself. And that, she found so humbling. "I love you too," she whispered. "And we don't have to do this tonight. Not if you don't want to. I mean—"

He touched her hand, sliding his palm under hers and then lacing his fingers between. "I do want to," he murmured, and his voice was so deep it seemed to vibrate right through her. "And I don't have words for how I feel right now. I didn't bring this... well, _for this._ But it just seems like the right time..."

He handed her what had been in his other hand: a small dark-purple velvet drawstring bag, cinched with a satin ribbon. She untied it and slowly upended the bag, and a heart-shaped gold locket fell into her palm. Its face was decorated with an embossed filigree pattern. It was elegant, classic. "Oh," she whispered, working her thumbnail between the two halves to open it. Tears came to her eyes when she saw the photo of her boyfriend already inside.

"Is it okay?"

Nancy nodded, then looked into his eyes. "It's beautiful," she told him. "Thank you."

He smiled and touched it gently. "Mom says I have to be running out of jewelry to give you," he admitted. "That if you wore it all at once, you'd look like some princess... although you always look so beautiful."

She closed the locket as she glanced down at her plain underwear. "Next time," she promised him, with a wry smile.

He shook his head, releasing her hand so he could slide his arm around her waist. She shivered when his fingertips drifted across the small of her back. " _Always_ ," he repeated. "We can't have candles in my room at Emerson, but maybe—"

Her heart was burning in her, so she clutched the locket in her hand and rose on her knees, kissing Ned hard. She shivered as he returned it, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his large warm palms cupping her sides. She drew her fingers through his hair and he moaned softly, and the sound of it vibrated against her. His fingertips were drifting against her spine as she slowly sank back down.

Ned broke the kiss, but didn't pull away from her. He stroked his fingertips over her shoulder blades, up to the nape of her neck. "You will tell me what's wrong, won't you?" he whispered, and when she pulled back, he searched her eyes. "I know you can't right now, for some reason, but I've never seen you this way..."

She tried to smile, but couldn't. "I will," she whispered. _Or someone else would._ But she couldn't think about that tonight. "I love you so much. Here..."

She moved to slide under the covers, then looked at him in invitation, and Ned didn't wait for her to ask aloud. He reached behind his head and tugged his thin shirt off, then tossed it to the chair to join her clothes. He was barechested when he joined her under the blankets, and she shivered.

She absolutely couldn't let anyone know what happened between them tonight. If her stalker found out, she was pretty sure it would paint a target on Ned's back—and maybe on hers, too. Maybe if he couldn't have her, no one could. And just that thought was enough to make her tremble.

It was her choice. She was in a corner and it was the only choice she could make, but that didn't make it any less hers, any less than the heart she had gripped until its design was printed onto her palm. Ned's heart.

The pull between them was inevitable, as undeniable as gravity. She slid her arms around his neck, baring herself, leaving herself defenseless to him, and the feel of his warm chest against her belly was almost too much. He released a soft pleased sound, sliding his arms around her too, holding her to him. Their kiss was sweet, and then it grew deeper, more intense, and she couldn't stop.

There had always been a stop before, a quiet protest, an interruption. And if there wasn't, tonight...?

His breath was warm against her cheek. His fingers slid under the back closure of her bra, and his other hand moved low, to the small of her back and then lower.

Her eyes opened, and when she saw that he was looking too, his dark eyes aglow, warm with desire and need, she felt—curious, dangerous. She kept one hand at the back of his neck, her lips still moving against his, as she ran her other palm down his muscular back. His hips surged against hers when she barely ran her fingertips under the elastic of his boxers.

Ned broke their kiss, and both of them gasped. With a soft grunt, Ned took the back of her bra in both hands. After a few futile attempts, sensing that he was growing impatient enough to just rip the garment apart, Nancy chuckled and reached behind her, unfastening it herself. She sat up to slide it off, watching Ned watch her, seeing the expression on his face as he saw her bare breasts for the first time. Like all his dreams were coming true. As soon as she had tossed the bra onto the chair with the rest of their clothes, she could feel the sensitive tips of her breasts hardening.

"Beautiful," he breathed, slowly sitting up. "Can I...?"

He reached for her, slowly, glancing up at her face, and she nodded. "I thought you might want to," she teased him gently. "I thought tonight might involve a lot of that."

He cupped a bare breast in his large warm palm, and she moaned softly, scooting back against the headboard so she could slump, drifting in the pleasure of it. She closed her eyes, moaning again when he rubbed his thumb over her hard-tipped nipple.

"Here," Ned murmured, and she focused long enough to figure out what he wanted. He settled against the headboard and pulled her so her bare back rested against his chest, and her head lolled against his shoulder as he cupped and fondled both breasts at the same time.

"Like this?"

"Yes," she moaned, and Ned shifted when she stroked his outer thighs, sliding the fabric of his boxers up. She couldn't seem to catch her breath, and what he was doing to her felt so, so damn good. He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and gently squeezed them, and she cried out in pleasure.

Then he moved one hand down, still caressing her breast, but he traced his fingertips down, over her belly. She panted, releasing a quiet whimper when he slid his hand into her panties.

"Mmm." He kissed her neck and Nancy shivered, feeling him, the hardness between his legs against her butt, the curious stroke of his fingers between her legs. She arched, her heart beating so hard as he traced the slit he found there. She felt like she was about to come out of her skin.

"Can I see you?" His breath was warm against her neck. "I want to see you, beautiful. Here." His deliberate stroke between her legs made her moan.

Then he released her, and she scooted forward, briefly touching her face and feeling the heat of her blush against her fingertips. She almost choked as she maneuvered to pull her panties off. She couldn't believe this was happening.

She couldn't believe how much she wanted it, either. She was desperate to feel him touch her again.

Then she turned and saw that Ned was stripping off his boxers too. They looked at each other, motionless, realizing it together. She had been innocent, but his expression, the need and gratitude and curiosity, almost took her breath away.

She saw him, completely naked, and couldn't help it. She wanted to touch him, to feel that part of him. She moved toward him, raising her eyebrows in the faintest question, and his eagerness made her smile.

He was the only man she had ever seen this way, but he seemed large to her. He was strong, tall and muscular; she supposed it made sense. Her stroke was cautious at first, gentle, and then she wrapped her fingers around his erection. He was so hard, warm, and his skin moved when she stroked him.

"Mmm?"

He nodded in encouragement, and she rubbed the heel of her hand against that part of him, then jerked back guiltily when he suddenly moved. He was reaching for the bottle of lube she had brought, and he fumbled the cap as he popped it open. She let him squirt some into her palm before she began to stroke him again, and he released a loud moan of pleasure, his hips jerking up.

"Just like that," he panted. "Oh God..."

After a few more experimental strokes, she sat back, releasing him. He was panting as he opened his eyes, dazed with need and arousal. "Oh... you want some too, beautiful?"

She nodded, flushing slightly. "That will be inside me?" she whispered, searching his eyes.

"If you want." He drew a long breath and released it. "Come here."

She was so exposed, as he moved beside her, sliding his hand between her thighs and gently parting them, encouraging her to bend one knee and open herself to him. He kissed her neck as he cupped her, as he stroked a fingertip up the slit that marked her sex. Nancy closed her eyes and let herself go.

And she was glad there was no one around, because she couldn't stay still, couldn't keep quiet. He explored her in soft, teasing caresses, then traced her, touching her in ways she had never imagined. He kissed her neck, her breasts, and pulled a nipple between his lips to suckle against it as he touched the slick button at the top of her sex.

She sobbed, reaching up to wrap her fingers around the headboard, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. "Oh _yes_ ," she moaned. "Yes, _please_..."

He touched her until she was quivering, aching with a nameless need, her hips gently rising and falling as she panted. Then he pulled back, and he was smiling when she opened her eyes. His saliva was cooling against her sensitive nipples, and the join of her thighs felt so tender, so—tense.

"Now we're even," he murmured.

She glanced at the bedside table, still gasping for breath. "Please?"

He reached down and took his erection in his fist, and Nancy blushed. "You still want this?" he murmured.

She nodded, releasing her grip on the headboard to reach for the condoms. "Yes," she whispered. "I..."

He reached for the condoms too, and she watched him. He pulled out one of the foil packets and ripped it open, and she blushed again as she watched him carefully roll the condom on himself, watched him take the lube and stroke it over the condom. His movements were so deliberate, not easy and practiced, and her heart ached with love for him.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I'm afraid," she whispered. "But I want this. I want you, always. No matter what."

He searched her eyes. "We don't have to," he whispered.

But she swallowed and opened her legs, and she could see the pulse in his neck, the way he tensed in anticipation. "Please," she whispered again.

And he lowered himself to her, kissing her until she was breathless, until she had slid her arms around him again, and she was completely open, defenseless, his. His tongue was in her mouth and his fingers were between her legs and she closed her eyes, gripping his shoulder, feeling the solid weight of him above her.

Such a small, sweet caress, so perfect. She felt him, that warm, firm part of him, that part of him that he would give her so briefly. She wasn't lost; she would never be lost, not like this. She was his.

She was losing nothing to him. She was becoming.

Still, she gasped when he began to move into her. He was too big, and she was so tight. She whimpered, moving restlessly, trying to relax. When he made a soft questioning sound, she clung to him.

"Yes," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Mmm." She sniffled, and even though it hurt, oh, that strange ache in her still wasn't satisfied. "Keep going, baby, please."

Then he moved, another apology on his lips, and Nancy couldn't help crying out. It did hurt. It felt impossible, so tight, he was too big...

And then, slowly, so very slowly, she took a deep breath and forced herself to relax, and Ned moved so he was sheathed fully inside her. She almost began panting again, rolling her shoulders, tilting her head back and forth.

"Baby," he whispered. "Oh my God."

She forced herself to open her eyes, and they gazed at each other for a long moment. He gave her a small, tentative smile.

It was all right. The pain had mostly faded. But she was still so, so aware of him. She cautiously took a deep breath, relaxing her fingers' grip on him so she could stroke her palm over his muscular back.

"Okay?"

"Yeah." She took another deep breath. "Now we move, right?"

His smile became a grin. "If you're ready."

"I think so."

He kissed her, and she slid her hand into his hair. He took it slow, and the feel of him moving out of her, then sheathing himself inside her again—there were no words. There could never be any words to describe how this felt. He was a part of her, and she was a part of him.

And it was perfect.

She let him handle it, controlling everything, relaxing and accepting him. She watched his face and saw his pleasure, a need rising and surpassing her own. His thrusts became shorter as he started panting, grunting with exertion, and she gasped in surprise when he kissed her again. The feel of his chest against her breasts, the feel of that small swollen button when he somehow glanced against it—

And then she saw it, the incredible pleasure on his face, and a thrill went down her spine, squeezing her already impossibly tight sex even tighter around his. Ned gasped and pushed deep inside her, and cried out.

She fell apart, loosening her grip on him, moaning softly as he collapsed to her. They were completely uncovered, their hearts thundering, and she closed her eyes.

"I love you," Ned panted, and she shivered when his lips brushed her skin.

"And I will always love you," she whispered. "No matter what, no matter what happens, never doubt it. I will always be yours."


	3. Chapter 3

Wilder.

Intellectually, Nancy knew there was nothing specifically wrong with the school. It had a good reputation; George and Bess wouldn't have applied to attend otherwise. But it was also the absolute worst place on earth, her own private hell, because _it wasn't Emerson._ And the only reason she wasn't at Emerson was fear.

Her phone was buzzing angrily in the cupholder of her car. She didn't look at it. Even so, a fresh wave of tears rose in her eyes, and she hastily blinked them down her cheeks.

Everything, absolutely _everything_ , about today had hurt. And every time Ned called her phone or sent her a text message, she felt it like a punch straight to her heart. He didn't understand.

And _Nancy_ didn't understand either. She imagined herself picking up the phone, responding to his anger, his hurt, his fear, with hysterical screaming. Once she punctured the slightest hole in the dam holding back all of her own terror and anger, it would burst. She knew Ned. She knew that he wouldn't be able to leave her alone, not in the face of this.

But the only thing keeping him safe was his distance from her.

The buzzing stopped abruptly, and Nancy sniffled loudly, reaching for a fast food napkin to wipe her nose. She had known that she would cry her makeup off, so she hadn't bothered wearing any. Her eyes were red, bloodshot and puffy. She looked absolutely miserable. She _was_ absolutely miserable.

She should never have slept with Ned.

But she couldn't bring herself to regret it, either. If something happened to her, if her stalker found her... then at least she had been able to share something so special and meaningful with the man she loved, though she prayed it wouldn't destroy Ned to lose her so soon after. If her stalker was found and captured, if Ned could find it in his heart to forgive her for breaking up with him...

She released another loud sob, swiping angrily at her stinging eyes. She couldn't do it. She couldn't hurt Ned this way. She had been so much of a coward that she had waited until this morning to text him with the news that she wouldn't be going to Emerson, she would be at Wilder, at her father's wishes. Maybe Ned would see it as a breakup, but Nancy couldn't say the words.

She didn't want to throw her father under the bus like this—her father and Ned had always had a good relationship, and she didn't want to damage it—but she couldn't lie and say it had been her decision, either. If Ned thought it was entirely her father's doing, maybe he wouldn't hate her so much for this...

She knew she was grasping at straws. She also knew that he wouldn't have blown up her phone with calls and messages if he didn't care, just as she knew that her silence was likely infuriating him. She would have been heartbroken, if their positions had been reversed.

Wilder was hours away from River Heights and Chicago, hours away from Emerson. She would be living near Bess and George, but Nancy hadn't told her two best female friends what was going on. She was afraid of living in the same dorm with them. If her stalker came after her and either of them was hurt, Nancy would never forgive herself. Just like she would never forgive herself if Ned were hurt.

_And that's why you have to ignore it,_ she reminded herself, sniffling again. _It's better for him to be mad. It is._

But it didn't feel that way. It felt like she was ripping her own heart out.

She had cried until she felt numb, by the time she negotiated the turn onto the Wilder campus and started looking for the dorm she had been assigned. She noted the landmarks without any modicum of interest or excitement. As much as she wanted to believe that her time here would be short and she wouldn't need to memorize anything, her mounting depression said otherwise. She imagined a span of days, bleak and joyless, ending in a death that might well feel welcome after so much anxiety and sadness.

Nancy very nearly reached up and touched the lump under her shirt, just above her breasts. She was wearing the locket Ned had given her, but fear of provoking a retaliatory attack had made her tuck it under her shirt, where her bare skin was warming the metal. It was empty, just in case. She couldn't be found with a photo of Ned so clearly important to her, as much as it had hurt her to gently pry it out and place it in her desk drawer, out of sight. The photo of him that had always greeted her every morning was in the drawer too. And she was well aware that even keeping the locket, even wearing it, was likely a mistake, but she hadn't been able to just put it away with everything else. It was a tangible reminder of the night she had spent with Ned.

She had been so incredibly excited to go to college. Being around Ned had been a significant part of it, but she had also been excited about working toward a degree, meeting new people, making her father proud.

Nancy didn't know how to see beyond just getting through the next day, or even the next hour. Imagining a time after this felt foolish. If they didn't find any new clues, if the police didn't come up with any leads... she very well might do something crazy, desperate for some kind of end. The perpetual anxiety that interrupted her sleep, kept her jumpy and irritable, was already close to unendurable.

The last time she had slept, _really_ slept, had been the night she had taken Ned into her bed. He had wrapped her in his arms and held her all night, clearly delighted to be with her after spending so long apart. Leaving him very early the next morning had been one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do.

_He'll figure it out._

As awful as that would be, Nancy couldn't help it. There was no way she would ever tell Ned what was happening, and this needed to be a story she shared with him once her stalker was safely behind bars and she was hopefully very, very drunk. But if he somehow figured it out, he wouldn't hate her anymore.

He had told her once that they were stronger together, and those words kept repeating in her head. When they had been together, she _had_ felt stronger. She had needed to keep herself together, as much as she could, to be strong for him.

She had made the right decision. So why did it feel so, so very much like the wrong one?

Once she found her dorm, she pulled into a parking spot and just sat there, listening to the engine tick down as it cooled, feeling completely numb and powerless. Every step, every inch, down this path felt like she was putting another mile between her and Ned, and they stretched out to an infinity now. Her father had sent her away because he loved her. She had cut Ned off so unceremoniously because she loved him.

She sat in the car until her eyes began to stream and she cried silently, without sobbing, without moving. It was only once another student and her family walked by the car, their voices muffled through the glass, that Nancy actually tried to stop herself. She wiped her face again, sniffling, and gave her reflection in the rearview the barest glance. She couldn't repair the damage her tears had done without cold water, and that would wait. She couldn't give less of a fuck who saw her this way; they would probably just assume she was homesick, and that guess wouldn't be far off.

The sidewalk in front of the dorm and all the walkways and stairwells inside were full of noise and activity: students lugging plastic milk crates overflowing with brand-new desk lamps and t-shirts and cutesy shag rugs; younger siblings, put-upon looks on their faces, dragging beanbag chairs; parents carrying pillows and shower caddies and posters. The new and returning students were bubbling with happiness and laughter, some of them fighting tears as they bid a long goodbye to parents for the first time in their lives.

Nancy was alone, and she kept her head down. She followed a set of arrowed signs to a set of check-in desks marked with last name ranges, and shuffled to the end of the appropriate line. In front of her, a pudgy guy's blue shirt sported damp, speckled rings of sweat at the shoulder blades and the small of his back. The girl at the end of the next line was chattering nonstop into her cell phone, barely pausing for gasped breaths, twining a strand of artfully-highlighted dark hair around her index finger. Two dark-skinned girls were murmuring to each other, eyes alight, finishing each other's sentences.

Nancy felt dead inside. She had no other word for it.

She didn't understand how her body kept moving, how for seconds, even minutes at a time, she was able to forget. Then it crashed back and the weight of it felt like enough to crack her ribs. The person in front of her took two steps forward and Nancy shuffled automatically too, perspiration beading her brow and her hairline, but she hardly felt it.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and as she jolted in surprise, she had to force back a sob.

She was crying freely again by the time she made it to the front of the line. The guy sitting there glanced up to greet her and ask her name, but he was clearly deeply uncomfortable at her obvious dismay. "Uh, last name?" he asked, haltingly.

"Drew." Her voice was a rasp, and she had to clear her throat before he understood. "Nancy Drew."

The receptionist, who had dark hair and thick eyebrows, began to flip through the thick welcome packets in the bin in front of him. He reached one, then flipped through all the way to the end, that thick eyebrow quirking. Nancy's stomach dropped.

She was unconvinced, now, that anything was coincidence. If her welcome packet was missing...

Setting his mouth, the guy got up and walked over to another bin as though lost in thought. He slowly flipped through that one, then leaned down to peer at an envelope. "Got it!" he crowed, then returned to his chair.

"Sorry," he told her. "Someone must've misfiled it, under 'N' instead of 'D.' No worries. Okay..."

He produced a check-in checklist for her. Make sure her dorm-room passkeys worked, report to the main building for course registration, go to the student lounge for her student ID and parking pass, attend the mixer in the main gym. Nancy listened without responding to his renewed enthusiasm, and heard his voice slowly drain of energy, responding to her own mood. She glanced up at him, her tears momentarily stopped, her mouth a thin line.

"It's gonna be okay," he told her, and gave her a smile almost too quick to see. "You'll see. I hope you have a great semester."

_Fat chance,_ she thought sourly, but forced her own unconvincing smile and took the packet.

She couldn't seem to summon up the energy to do anything. Shuffling away from the line was the extent of her motivation. She spotted a mercifully unoccupied bench and sank down onto it, the packet in her hands.

_What if she found one of those special envelopes inside?_

Nancy shuddered in revulsion, letting the packet slide from her lap onto the bench beside her. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, sweat beading on her face and dripping down her spine, darkening her hair. She was here now, and her father expected her to stay until her stalker was apprehended.

_I'll end up graduating from here,_ she thought dully. _It's been fifteen years since this guy killed Mom. Maybe I could just fake my death and change my name..._

And return one of Ned's frantic calls. Nancy hung her head, forcing herself to take a deep breath, and very nearly didn't even bother reaching into her pocket for a tissue to swipe at her running nose. It hardly seemed worth it.

_The only way I can go home and see Ned again is if they catch this guy._

I'm _gonna have to catch this guy. Then I can go home._

Her resources weren't the same as the police's. But she had found murderers and arsonists and saboteurs. She had found thieves and spies, and outwitted almost all of them. Everything in her life had been leading up to this.

So her father didn't want her anywhere near this investigation. In all honesty, _Nancy_ wasn't sure she wanted to be anywhere near it, not after hearing about that last letter.

But all the clues, everything possible... she thought the key was likely waiting for her, fifteen years in the past. She would have to be careful. The most she could hope for was finding the stalker before Ned completely gave up on her.

And if this was her last case, well, she would leave clues that would help the police catch her killer, her mother's killer. No one should have to live this way. No one. And Nancy knew she didn't deserve this.

_Don't waste your time freaking out about what you can't change. Start changing things._

Her mini-pep talk didn't lighten her pitch-black mood, but she was able to break her momentary paralysis and stand up. If she kept moving, maybe she wouldn't stop again.

And she had a checklist. That was a place to start. She wasn't delusional enough to believe that she would be able to solve the case before classes started, so that meant signing up for some.

So she wiped her wet cheeks and blew her nose, then set out for the main building. Her steps weren't exactly brisk, but at least they were steady and deliberate. She had no idea what to take, and it hurt too much to imagine that she would be here long. A semester, at most.

Ned had—

Nancy choked, but forced herself to take the next step, then another, until the pain had receded a little. Just thinking about Ned hurt so fucking much.

Okay. As far as she knew, she could just take basic classes. She didn't think her father had put her down for any specific major when he had pulled the strings required to enroll her at Wilder, but she was about to find out.

The line at the main building was much shorter than Nancy had anticipated. The girl in front of her was complaining about having forgotten her password; apparently most of the students enrolled in their classes online. Maybe her packet said something about that. Nancy hadn't bothered opening it. She steeled herself and opened it, but she didn't find anything unexpected inside. No envelope from her stalker. At least that was something.

"Hi. Your student ID number?"

Nancy gave the receptionist a helpless smile. "I'm brand new, and I don't know," she admitted. "Can you look me up?"

The receptionist sighed silently, then gave her a thin forced smile. "Yeah. Your name?"

After a few minutes, Nancy was paired up with an advisor who flipped open a slender manila folder. "Nancy Drew. And you're brand new... welcome to Wilder," the balding man said. He was seated in front of a computer, but turned toward her, and his lips curved up under his mustache. "Now, it looks like you haven't declared a major yet. What are you interested in?"

Nancy pulled in a deep breath. She had so strenuously avoided dealing with today that she hadn't even bothered flipping through a Wilder brochure or researching the college via their website. "Can I decide later, and just take some basic classes this semester?"

Her advisor shrugged. "Sure. A lot of the freshman classes are kind of generic anyway, for people who change their minds. What's your favorite subject?"

Together they determined a course schedule with five classes. Nancy hadn't been in high school for more than a year, and the thought of a full schedule made her shudder. She had grown accustomed to sleeping in and going to bed when the sun was coming up, when she was working on cases. "Now, be thinking about what you like," the advisor said, handing her a list. "You can always change your mind later, but picking out a major will help us make sure you take all the classes you need, and nothing extra."

Nancy nodded, skimming over the list. She wasn't planning to find anything, but one word in particular caught her attention, and she glanced up at her advisor.

"I can major in journalism?"

He nodded slowly, then gave his head a little shake and smiled at her. "Yeah, media and journalism. I mean, if you want." He sounded very skeptical, and she honestly couldn't blame him.

But it would be a perfect cover. No one would question her digging into old cases and files if she said she was working on some kind of historical perspective assignment.

"We have a campus radio station, of course, a campus newspaper, a campus television station. Depends on what you decide on for your concentration."

Nancy nodded slowly. For the first time in weeks, she felt a tiny, almost imperceptible spark of excitement. She had worked undercover in newspaper offices, had worked with reporters in both print and television, even some online journalists. Their lives, their dedication, the sheer amount of research they needed to do... she understood, even if she didn't personally share the dream. Journalists lived for the byline, the recognition, the conclusion of a story and revealing the truth. Nancy's favorite part was the lead-up, the thrill of catching the villain, discovering clues. As soon as the culprit was apprehended, her attention was already straying to the next case.

But journalism would work, for her purposes. Oh yes.

Now that she had some sense of direction, she found it easier to follow the next steps. She went to the restroom and thoroughly rinsed her face with cold water, drying it off and evaluating how much damage she had repaired. Her eyes still looked a little puffy and she looked tired, but she was a college student. That would hardly be found worthy of comment. When the staffer handed her a warm, brand-new ID card ten minutes later, her photo depicted a plain, weary girl, hair scraped back into a tight ponytail, a weak smile on her lips.

At least it felt genuine. Very little had, so far.

She took her suitcase up to her new room, and knocked before unlocking the door. The room was tiny. Single, narrow bunk beds were mounted on frames above solid wooden desks against opposing walls. Modest dressers were built into a wall storage unit, tucked between narrow closets. The single window cast weak light over the linoleum floor. The walls weren't cinder block, at least.

It reminded Nancy of—

Everything was going to remind her of Ned. She needed to get used to this ache that waited behind every glance, every thought.

Ned had stayed in a dorm at Emerson before he had joined Omega Chi. The rooms at Emerson had seemed a little nicer than this, but it felt similar. An area rug would at least cheer the place up a little, but Nancy had no idea if her roommate might already have one. And the room was completely empty, so her roommate apparently hadn't arrived yet either.

Nancy moved her few belongings into the room. The resentment and anger, all that had kept her from succumbing to her fear and depression, had meant that her packing was halfhearted and desultory. Oh, she had the basics, complete outfits and shoes, toiletries, towels, but little else.

After she had plugged in her laptop, Nancy checked her cell phone, dreading what she might see. And she was right to. Ned had called fourteen times. He had left three voicemails. And, thanks to his persistence, her cell phone battery was half-drained.

Her stomach was a ball of lead as she found her phone charger and plugged it into the surge protector. She had absolutely no intention of attending the back-to-school mixer, mostly because she had attended those with Ned... and she didn't need to spend her night torturing herself by thinking about him.

She was afraid to listen to his messages. Hearing his anger, his confusion, his anguish, would kill her.

She had just opened her laptop lid when her phone buzzed, and her stomach sank before she found the nerve to check it. _Settled in yet? I'm famished! Want to get dinner?_

Nancy couldn't imagine anything she wanted less, but at Bess's suggestion, her stomach actually growled loudly. She had managed a few bites of breakfast, very few, and that had been several hours ago.

_You need to keep your strength up._

Nancy sighed. "Fine," she told that little voice, wishing that it didn't sound just faintly like her boyfriend.

\--

Nancy's first night at Wilder was miserable. After dinner, Bess and George begged Nancy to attend the mixer, but she told them she was too tired to go, that they should have fun without her. She returned to her room and looked around, but she had put everything away already. She opened her laptop, but the newspaper articles she needed weren't linked online. She would need to visit a library that carried copies of the Chicago or River Heights newspapers.

She had memorized the articles about her mother's death a long time ago, but she needed to see them all again. The reporters who initially covered the case, the officers who had initially investigated, might be able to tell her about evidence that hadn't been made public, theories about who the stalker might have been, suspects they had eliminated. And she wanted to see the images and stories about her parents, too.

Ned sent her another message, close to midnight. She saw his name on the screen, and though she did her best not to read it, her eye flicked down anyway.

_I keep hoping I've somehow stumbled into a nightmare, but apparently you really are at Wilder. I'll come see you at lunch tomorrow. We can talk about what's going on._

Nancy stared down at the screen, her eyes wide in horror. _No_. She felt like her strength was almost spent, and seeing Ned would sap the rest of it. Putting on a brave face, lying to the man she loved more than anyone or anything else—just the prospect made her infinitely exhausted and depressed. This wasn't right.

_Please don't. I can't see you right now._ Her index finger hovered above the messaging keyboard, frozen. She had to tell him not to come. She had to. For his safety and her own.

But maybe nothing was right. Maybe there was no good choice to be made.

Maybe he wouldn't believe her unless she said it to his face.

_Run away with me. I'm not strong enough to do this without you._

In the end, she sent nothing in reply, angry and frustrated at herself, aching for the obvious pain Ned was in. She was a coward.

She had just never thought it would ever be this way.

Nancy cried herself to sleep, but couldn't relax for long. At every slight noise, the slam of the exterior dorm door when people walked in, footsteps in the hallway, she jerked awake again. She didn't know if her father had any Wilder security officers or law enforcement personnel monitoring her dorm, but she couldn't assume.

She dragged herself out of bed before the sun was up, giving up on even trying to get any more sleep, and checked her cell phone. She heard a door slam downstairs, but the dorm seemed deathly quiet. No new messages from Ned, which was a relief, although she also felt unaccountably depressed by it. Bess and George had posted a handful of photos from the mixer the night before, selfies with other new students, and Nancy looked through them with a pang of sadness. She had no one to blame but herself for not going.

She still wished with all her heart that could talk to Bess and George about the case, but it was too dangerous. It felt like walking a trembling tightrope over jagged shards of broken glass. She felt completely unprotected.

That feeling only grew when she flipped on the light and spotted the envelope just under the door. Her name had been typed onto its face, and it had once been white, but was now browned faintly at the edges. A line of five red cartoon hearts were arranged in a chain down one side. No postage stamp, of course, no postmark.

Her initial impulse was to send a message to Avery and have her deal with it. Whatever was inside, it was guaranteed to hurt her and upset her.

But it was a clue.

She used a tissue to pick it up, but didn't want it on her own desk; instead she dropped it onto the other, unoccupied desk. She considered for a moment, then used a pair of scissors to open it, hoping to preserve any possible latent prints or microscopic evidence. A single folded sheet of paper was inside. It, too, was faintly browned with age, slightly brittle, and it matched the envelope.

 

_I hope you weren't trying to run from me. It's useless to fight destiny, and you are mine._

_I'll be seeing you soon._

 

He had _been here,_ in her dorm—or he'd asked someone to deliver it. Either possibility was terrifying. He knew what room she was in.

Her skin was crawling and clammy. A wave of nausea passed over her, and she had to concentrate on her breathing to keep from throwing up. It was bad enough to be so exhausted that she was practically hallucinating, but this on top of it was awful.

She had to get out.

_Like there's anywhere he won't find me._

She shook her head sharply. She had to try. No matter what, she wasn't going to just cower and accept this. That was exactly what he wanted.

The amount of effort it took to even find clean clothes, gather her shower supplies and a towel, and walk to the common bathroom was monumental. She could feel someone watching her. Leaving her room felt impossible, and the whole experience was made infinitely worse by how unfamiliar her surroundings were. Her previous visits to dorms had been brief, as a guest, often rooming with a student. Now, she was... this was going to be her life, for the next few months. Apparently.

The skin between her shoulder blades felt tender and sensitive, responding to the weight of a gaze she could only imagine. Her shuffled steps to the bathroom were hasty, and her gaze never lingered anywhere long. When she closed the door behind her, she breathed a quick sigh. She wasn't safe here, but she wasn't safe anywhere.

After her hasty shower, straining to hear any quiet sound through the white noise of the water around her, after she had dressed in a burgundy tank top and khaki shorts to keep cool in the heat, Nancy put her mostly-dry reddish-gold hair up in a ponytail to keep it off her neck, then threaded the ponytail through the back of a ballcap so she would have some shade from the sun. Her eyes were puffy and tired, and she looked pale; the dusting of freckles that speckled her nose and cheeks stood out against the chalk of her skin. She couldn't even bear to smile at her reflection.

She still wore the locket, tucked under her shirt, against her skin. There was no way it was leaving her.

She packed her laptop in her bag and headed to the library so she could access the wireless internet and get started on her investigation. The sooner she figured out the case, the sooner she could go home. Besides, staying in her dorm room for any longer than she absolutely had to was impossible.

The smell of coffee washed over her as she stepped into the library's main entrance. A small coffee shop near the circulation desk was doing brisk business. Nancy spotted a glass display of muffins, and her stomach growled insistently. She had only managed to swallow a few bites of her dinner when Bess and George were paying attention; the food had tasted like ashes in her mouth. The pounding headache behind her eyes spoke to both dehydration and caffeine withdrawal. She headed for the shop automatically.

A styrofoam cup of coffee and a muffin in her hands later, Nancy looked around the library's main study room. It was enormous, boasting tall windows, long study tables and smaller niches for collaboration and group study, but all of it was very open and visible to everyone else. Only a dozen or so students were using the huge space, and many of them wore headphones or earbuds, but the space wasn't private.

If she went to one of the study carrels, she feared that someone might approach her, and she wouldn't be near any ready help. Here, at least, she felt the barest measure of safety. If she screamed, someone would likely respond, even if only to shush her. She found a roomy armchair beside a small table, big enough to hold her breakfast, and settled into the seat.

No one around her seemed remotely interested in her. All of them were completely absorbed in what they were doing. She smiled very slightly. None of them had homework yet, but probably the same impulse had brought them here: the safety of being around other people without any social interaction. Being alone in a group. Thanks to how preoccupied she generally was with an investigation, she was very familiar with that particular feeling.

She gave her head a brisk shake, swallowed another fragrant sip of coffee, and reached for her backpack to pull her laptop out. Her eyebrows went up, and she glanced around—but, as she had expected, many outlets were available near her.

After a quick check of her messages, she considered for a moment. If the heart of her investigation was going to be her mother's death, she needed to re-familiarize herself with what had been reported at the time. She remembered her father's comment about a photo in the newspaper likely sparking the stalker's interest, and decided to start with that, in case it was helpful.

She opened a new document on her laptop.

_-Assuming the stalker was at least 18 at the time, that would make him around 33 now._

_-He followed Mom around._ Nancy felt a lump of tears swell in her throat and tried hard to force them down.

- _He kept track of Mom and Dad via newspaper reports._

Nancy tilted her head. At the time of her mother's death, that approach would make some sense, especially if he was interested in Carson. Now, though... well, depending on the stalker's age, social media might be a more viable route. Nancy's social media pages were kept locked down, so that only the bare minimum of information was displayed to the public in case a new friend wanted to find her. George barely updated hers. Bess was far less discriminating, though. That might be a way her stalker could keep tabs on Nancy, by studying Bess's social media page and then creating a fake account mimicking some common characteristics of what she friended. Then he would be able to see some of Nancy's activity when she was with Bess.

- _The link is the stationery being used._

If not for that, if not for that unpublicized detail, Nancy would have just blamed all this on some sick individual who had stumbled across a scenario that would be _certain_ to mess with Carson Drew. In fact...

- _This might all be meant to distract Dad from something important._

He was focusing his attention on the stalking case, on the danger to Nancy. All the stalker had done so far was to send three or four messages, so with minimum effort, the stalker had effectively disrupted Carson's life. No actual physical threat had been made. Nothing suspicious had been left in her room or car, or anywhere that would take genuine planning and coordination. Once the stalker did that... Nancy wasn't sure she could be at a _higher_ alert level, but that would do it.

_-At least one man was involved in Mom's case._ Maybe other men had been involved. Leaving her body in the park wouldn't have been impossible for an average, moderately athletic guy, but it would have been easier with help. She just didn't know who that could have been.

- _The 15 yr gap could indicate that he was in prison for some part of that time._ But Nancy would have to wait until she had some possible suspects to cross-reference that way, and it would require contacting someone in law enforcement.

Nancy navigated to the library's main page and read it carefully. She could use her school ID to access the search features, which included digitized back issues of some state and national newspapers.

Her eyes widened. She had made more trips to the library in River Heights than she could count, and had learned to use all the equipment, including the microfilm machines. Reading online would be a lot easier, especially if she could save files to her computer to access later instead of digging in her pockets for quarters.

And at that moment, as she initiated her first search, a little of the crushing, nightmarish anxiety faded. _This_ was familiar, this routine of finding clues and evidence, at once comforting and thrilling. She was good at puzzles and finding the way things fit together. Her motivation was just even more compelling than usual.

Her search for archives for newspapers in or near Chicago came up with five results. When she searched her father's name in those newspapers, the number of hits made her smile. Carson Drew didn't limit himself to notorious or controversial cases; often he did quite the opposite. But his cases did make headlines.

She narrowed the results even further, setting the end date as a year after her mother's death. A recap of the case written after the initial confusion and outrage might be helpful.

Still. Nancy paused after her newly refined results appeared. This was going to be difficult; she had no doubt about it. Her father had been devastated, but Nancy also knew he would have done absolutely everything he could to find his wife's killer. The only slim chance she had, the only hope at all, was that the clues from that case might tell her more when combined with the clues from this one.

Caught up in the articles she was reading and saving to her laptop if she needed to read them again later, Nancy managed to slowly eat almost all of the muffin, and drain the last sip of her coffee well before it went cold. She also made a list of the reporters who had worked on stories about the case, and the names of officers mentioned, so she could cross-check them and maybe locate them for re-interview. The area where the body—her mother—had been discovered wasn't obvious from the street or any natural vantage points, but the places to park would have been.

She realized she needed to take a bathroom break and glanced around as though emerging from a fog. She had completely tuned out her surroundings, she was so intent on what she was reading. Nothing much had changed; a few more students had come into the library, and a couple near her was whispering and giggling to each other. Clearing her throat, Nancy packed up her laptop and shouldered her bag, heading to the circulation desk to ask where the nearest restroom was.

She followed the directions and found one near a reserves desk. Large display shelves in that area held magazines and journals for easy browsing, and more isolated study tables were lined along one wall. A few students were tucked into the shadows back there, but no one seemed interested in what Nancy was doing.

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind her, her anxiety level rose. She bent down and checked the open space under the stall doors, fully aware that if her stalker had followed her here and waited in the ladies' room to attack her, he must be both insanely determined and have a ridiculous level of patience—but she saw no suspicious shadows, heard nothing beyond the normal quiet sounds, the rattle of the exhaust fan, the soft buzz of the overhead lights. She made her trip as quick as she could, anyway.

_This is ridiculous_ , she thought, looking at her pale reflection as she washed her hands. She had taken off the ballcap after her arrival, but she still looked miserable and exhausted. _I can't go on like this for long._

Pretending that anything was even remotely normal was laughable. Besides, what point was there in pretending? She _really_ didn't want her stalker to see her having fun, smiling, laughing with her friends, and deciding that it was the perfect time to abduct her. Although he could just as easily decide to abduct her if she looked miserable, appointing himself as her knight in shining armor. She wasn't to blame for what this asshole decided to do, and nothing she did could be justification for this horror.

The futility of it all swelled painfully in her until she could feel it everywhere, aching in her throat, solid in her bones, crushing her heart.

She glanced at her watch after she had dried her hands. She still had an hour until she expected Ned to show up, and when she looked at her phone, she didn't see any new messages from him. Still...

Ned could find her phone. It was a safety feature they had activated and used before; Bess and George could find her too, and it had helped when they had been in trouble. Ned didn't need to send a message and arrange a meeting with her. He already knew she was at Wilder. She could turn off the service, but doing so felt wrong, more cruel than she needed to be.

She had no idea how she was going to do this or handle it. Just the thought of going back to her dorm made her skin crawl, and that was without even considering the talk she and Ned were likely about to have. And doing this in public was out of the question. There was no way Ned wasn't upset.

And if her stalker saw her break up with Ned, wouldn't that help?

Nancy released a soft, frustrated sob, grinding her balled fist against her eye before pushing the bathroom door open. If she found this guy, she was going to kill him with her bare hands. Then, only then, would she be able to really relax.

No one had claimed her seat while she was gone. Nancy sat down again, willing herself to calm down. Nothing had changed during her absence. The students around her were still consumed in what they were doing.

She had just pulled her laptop out again when something, some magnetic pull, brought her head up, her chin up, her gaze drawn to the large bank of front doors.

He was walking in, an hour early. Ned.

She didn't even try to stop the tears that flooded her eyes and immediately began to slide down her cheeks. She sniffled and reached up to gently touch the locket hanging beneath her shirt, but dropped her hand to her lap as soon as Ned saw her and began heading in her direction.

_Please,_ she begged. _Please, please forgive me for what I have to do._


End file.
